


Gossip

by LadysMaid



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-08
Updated: 2018-02-08
Packaged: 2019-03-15 11:25:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13612365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadysMaid/pseuds/LadysMaid
Summary: Tommy is pissed off but Alfie shuts him down.More Tommy/Alfie lemon, sequel to 'Neither Fish nor Fowl'. Because has your week really been worth it if you haven't written 10k words of smut?!Thanks for the lovely comments on the previous post!Again, spoilers for S3 (kind of)!





	Gossip

Thomas couldn’t remember when he’d last seen a tree. All he seemed to see nowadays was paper upon fucking paper. He didn’t trust anyone else with it though. Arthur never had a mind for business and he couldn’t trust John to stay focused on anything for longer than a couple minutes. Thomas wasn’t actually doing any better than that at the moment though. He tapped the ash off his cigarette and cleared his throat, willing himself to focus again. If he finished this, maybe he could go riding before it got dark. He’d been telling himself that for months now. Maybe this afternoon for real. 

The doors to his office blew open, one side slamming into the wall. John and Arthur burst through. The noise scared the shit out of him. 

‘Those are fucking _glass_ doors,’ he reprimanded.

‘Sorry, Tommy,’ John started. He was cut off literally and figuratively. Arthur held up a hand, nearly in his face. He got up in Thomas’ face after that, two hands firmly planted in the middle of his paperwork. 

‘I just got back from London,’ Arthur began. Thomas straightened up and leaned back in his chair, so his older brother wouldn’t spit in his face. He was fuming. John stood behind him. He seemed uncomfortable. 

‘Were they out of refreshments on the train?’ Thomas used his most profound voice. ‘They had no egg and cress sandwiches, and you’re outraged about it,’ he tried again. John sniggered. Thomas dared the corners of his mouth to curl up a little before he took another drag from his cigarette. Arthur’s grimace didn’t budge.

‘That kike scum, Alfie _fucking_ Solomons,’ he spat. Thomas wanted to correct the slur. Alfie’s middle name might as well be ‘Fucking’ though. ‘Alfie fucking Solomons is going around London telling everyone who will hear it, that he’s _fucked_ Tommy Shelby,’ Arthur continued. He pointed a finger in the middle of Thomas’ face. The word ‘fucked’ sounded so crude coming from his brother’s mouth. Thomas tried his best to keep any expression off his face. He allowed himself to break eye contact with Arthur and glanced over at John. He was looking down at the floor. 

His eyes were warm. He wasn’t sure how to reply to this. He just hoped his ears didn’t burn red because that’s what they felt like. It’d been a few weeks since Alfie Solomons had shamelessly confessed his preference for men over women to Thomas. They had immediately consummated his confession, and Thomas hadn’t regretted it, until now. He didn’t get embarrassed easily, but he felt quite small now. He looked back to Arthur and looked down in his lap when he saw his brother was still waiting for an explanation. Thomas cleared his throat. He could talk himself out of this. He was going to be just fine. Arthur didn’t even give him the chance. 

‘Now, if Alfie’s fucked you, he’s fucked the whole damn Shelby family, hasn’t he?’ 

Thomas’ mouth opened, but he closed it again. Maybe Arthur would just talk him out of this. 

‘I can’t go about my business if he’s undermining us like that,’ Arthur near-shouted. ‘He’s playing us for fools, Thomas!’ Thomas allowed himself another drag to calm his nerves. ‘Now I suggest you find out how he’s taking advantage of us, and how you’re going to fix it,’ Arthur ordered. He slammed one hand down on the desk before he straightened up. Thomas nodded.

‘You’re right, brother,’ he salved, ‘absolutely right. I’ll- I’ll get down there and straighten him out.’ Arthur still looked worked up. John’s shoulders had relaxed a little. ‘Today, alright? I’ll drive down to London today,’ Thomas offered. Arthur nodded. He sniffed loudly and straightened his waistcoat. He gave Thomas a curt nod and turned on his feet. John nodded as well, though less annoyed. The left the same way they came in. 

Thomas let out a sigh of relief but immediately felt annoyance replace the panic in his chest. He shook his head and stubbed out his cigarette, harder than was necessary. He downed his drink and stashed the pile of paperwork in front of him away in a folder. No riding today then.

 

It was dark and rainy when Thomas arrived in London. He’d considered driving straight to Alfie’s in Camden but opted for a hotel instead. He had them put him in a big suite. He needed the upper hand, to even the playing field. As soon as he arrived, he telephoned Alfie and told him they needed to talk. He couldn’t tell from his reply whether he actually accepted his invitation. He could never really read him. He was all theatre. 

Thomas had decided Alfie probably wasn’t coming. He’d already had two drinks, showered, and gotten dressed again. When he still found himself alone after that, he’d decided he could do some work. He sat at the desk in the middle of his suite. The rain still clattered against the windows. He couldn’t blame Alfie for not showing; Thomas wouldn’t send a dog through this weather. 

There was a knock at the door. 

‘It’s open,’ Thomas announced.

It opened slowly, and a young girl stood in the doorway. Thomas estimated her not older than thirteen. Her hands were folded neatly in front of her. She seemed nervous. 

‘Yes?’

She quickly cleared her throat. 

‘D-Dinner is served downstairs until nine, Mr Shelby,’ she then rambled, as if she’d been rehearsing. People in London knew who he was. She had clearly been shanghaied to go upstairs, as if he were an animal that’d ravish anything that came through the door. Thomas mustered up a smile. He hoped his glasses made him seem less threatening.

‘Thank you. I’m not hungry,’ he replied. She nodded and went to close the door again when he realized his stomach had grumbled at the mention of food. ‘Oh- could I- uh, get some fruit though, please?’ She smiled and closed the door behind her. 

Thomas tried to get back to his paperwork. Running a legitimate business would probably be easier at this point. There was no standard for what he was doing. He just had to make it all up as he went. 

 

There was another short nod.

‘Still open,’ Thomas announced. 

The girl came back in, a large silver plate balanced on her left arm. As she came closer, he saw a deep crimson blush on her cheeks. She clumsily put the platter down on an empty space on the desk. There was enough fruit there for the entire Shelby family. Thomas nodded and produced a stack of bills from his waistcoat. He gave her a pound note. She stared at it for a while, before folding it and slipping it behind her apron. Her chin cocked to the side, as if she was waiting for something. Her eyes were large and round. Thomas examined her, and realized he knew that expression. He’d seen it before so many times. He wondered if all men had this issue. When he tipped any type of service, they always seemed to assume he was buying them. 

‘Thank you,’ Thomas articulated. She seemed to understand now. 

‘Thank you, Mr Shelby.’ 

She turned and walked towards the door again, closing it behind her quietly as he left. Thomas shook his head. Two beats later, the door swung open again. Thomas looked up, annoyed, when he saw Alfie standing in the doorway. Or rather, barging in. The girl was standing behind him, seemingly alarmed. 

‘It’s alright, I’m expecting him,’ Thomas told her. He waved her away. Alfie mimicked his wave and turned around, locking the door. 

Thomas took his gun from its holster and cocked it. He pointed the barrel at Alfie’s forehead as he turned again. It didn’t affect Alfie’s expression whatsoever. He held his hands out like he was the Lord Jesus Christ himself.

‘ _Shalom_ , Tommy,’ he hummed. The gun pointed at his head did nothing to slow him down. He made his way over to Thomas’ desk steadily, and placed his hand flat over Thomas’s paperwork as Arthur had done before. He was dripping. Thomas pointed his gun up and stuck it under his chin, into his beard. Alfie leaned into the barrel. 

‘You _don’t_ go around telling people you’ve _fucked_ Tommy Shelby,’ Thomas hissed. 

Alfie tilted Thomas’ chin up with one finger and placed a wet kiss on his lips. He pulled back and pinched some grapes from the bunch. His hand was stuck to a page. He ripped it off and dropped it on the desk before he sat down. He popped a grape between his lips. 

‘Right, cause Tommy Shelby is the one that does the fucking, eh?’ He chewed in between, examining his grapes as if they were bloody diamonds. ‘Put the fucking gun away, Tommy,' he groaned. 'Why are you always so fucked up?’ He twiddled his fingers next to his head for emphasis. Thomas uncocked his gun and placed it on the desk. ‘You need some fucking cock in your life to get you out of that pretty head, sweetie,’ he said sincerely. Droplets of rain ran down the brim of his hat. Thomas sighed. ‘Must be exhausting, always being so fucking on,’ Alfie went on, snapping his fingers. ‘You look like you’re fucking dead already, I can see your skull right through your face.’ He shook his head, as if he was actually worried. He took his hat off and placed it on the desk, getting more of Thomas’ paperwork wet, the ink blooming. He ran a hand through his hair and frowned. ‘And take those damned glasses off, Tommy, for crying out loud,’ he nagged.

‘Alfie. You _cannot_ go around telling everyone and their mother that you fucked Tommy Shelby,’ Thomas repeated. He tried to relax his shoulders. There was some sense in what Alfie was telling him. 

‘Out of the abundance the heart the mouth speaks,’ Alfie said prophetically, his hands held out again. Thomas rolled his eyes. ‘Alright, alright- won’t do it anymore,’ he then added apologetically.  Thomas didn’t reply. He examined the damage to his paperwork as Alfie finished his grapes. 

 

‘I smell like wet dog,’ Alfie then said, sniffing the sleeve on his soaked black coat. Thomas noticed he wore a different scarf. This one was white with multiple black lines at the ends. His shirt was unbuttoned almost down to his navel. 

‘Do you ever fucking button your shirt,’ Thomas remarked. It wasn’t really a question. Thomas lit another cigarette. Alfie fumbled with his buttons. The front of his white shirt clung to him. 

‘I need to use your shower,’ Alfie said determinedly. Also not a question. He was already up and halfway through the room when he finished his sentence. Thomas pointed him towards the bathroom door and got back to work. 

 

It took about a minute and a half before the room was filled with Alfie’s singing, rising above the sound of running water. Thomas stared at the door for a moment, listening. So no riding, and now also no working, apparently. He screwed the cap back on his pen and put his papers in the folder. The ones Alfie had dripped all over were useless, but Thomas put them away anyway.

He took his glass of whiskey and made his way into the bathroom. Alfie’s singing continued. Throaty and low, much lower than this silly voice he used to speak in. The song sounded folky, but sad, and Thomas didn’t understand a single word. Thomas leaned against a counter that held two basins. His and hers. Alfie had put his clothes over a chair to dry. The water stopped, and Alfie dragged the shower curtain back. He was still humming when he stepped out of the bathtub, and apparently not at all surprised when Thomas handed him a clean towel. He rubbed it over his hair and face first, before wrapping it around his waist. 

‘Do you smoke in your sleep as well?’ He seemed offended at the cigarette smoke accumulating in the bathroom, mingling with the hot steam. 'Do you even sleep?' Alfie ran his fingers through his beard and shook his head. He walked right past Thomas and into the room again. Thomas followed in silence.

Alfie made his way to the couch on the other end of the suite. His shoulders were broad compared to his waist. Altogether, Alfie took up space for two. He poured himself a drink at the bar cart and dropped himself in the middle of the large sofa. 

‘I read something about you,’ he then muttered without looking up. He swirled his glass as if it was a cup of tea. ‘Well not _about_ you, but I thought of you.’

Thomas huffed. He got himself a refill as well and sat in the chair across from Alfie. 

‘Alright.’ He crossed his arms. He wasn’t sure he wanted to hear this. Alfie cleared his throat.

‘There’s this philosopher, right? German or something. Jewish fella anyway,’ Alfie started. _Philosophy?_ ’He came up with this idea that our type is driven by a death drive, he calls it,' Alfie continued solemnly.

Thomas raised an eyebrow. 

‘Our type?’ He’d been called many different things in his life, so Alfie needed to specify what type he was talking about. 

‘Soldiers,’ Alfie then said to his surprise. ‘Right? You’ve had this big traumatic experience, blah-blah, and all you do after is self-destruct,’ he went on, ‘the smoking, drinking, blowing shit up, yeah?’

Thomas felt his crossed arms tighten over his chest. He didn’t like being analyzed. He also didn’t like that he was intrigued. And he definitely didn’t like not having a witty remark ready. 

‘Now most people also have the drive to _live_ ,’ Alfie explained. Thomas wondered what that must be like. ‘Thirst and hunger and fucking, all oppose that death drive, you see?’ He made wild hand movements. 

Thomas nodded. It occurred to him that Alfie was much smarter than he led on. What other London gangster read philosophical treaties in his spare time?

‘Now what I think, right, is that it’s all a bit mixed up in your head.’ He emphasized the ‘your’. Alfie’s head was apparently fine, according to him. He was leaning forward now, elbows on his knees, towel failing to conceal anything. He counted on his fingers. 

’You don’t eat, like, _ever_. You drink- alcohol. Don’t count. And you fuck, yeah? But it’s death that gets you off, innit?’ He sat back again and shrugged. It was up to Thomas what he did with that explanation. 

‘Thank you for _that_ , Alfie,’ Thomas sighed and took a big gulp from his drink. He definitely wouldn’t say death got him off. He didn’t get what Alfie meant by that.

Alfie showed no intention of getting dressed anytime soon. In fact, he was only getting more naked. He left his towel on the sofa and got up. He picked some more grapes from the fruit platter. 

‘Mind you, I work the same way, mate,’ Alfie then added. ‘When you came around and I wanted to shoot you and you told me your boy would blow us all up? _Hm_ , I was rock hard hearing you dig your way out of that one,’ he muttered. He popped another grape into his mouth and closed his eyes, apparently relishing in the memory. ‘We already fucked right there,’ he concluded. 

‘Good to know,’ Thomas replied curtly. He had to admit he’d also had a lethal amount of adrenaline coursing through his veins that afternoon. He never thought he purposely sought out these situations, but he had found himself in an awful lot of them in his time.  

‘So did you fuck him? The choir boy?’ Alfie looked smug. He already knew the answer.

‘Yes,’ Thomas admitted. Thomas had taken James back to Ada’s house. They had drunk and fucked all afternoon. Was he proving Alfie’s theory?

‘Where’d you fuck him?’

Thomas cleared his throat and crossed his legs. Alfie was right.

'In his bed, in my house,’ Thomas recalled. His cock twitched at the memory. He poured the rest of his drink down his throat. This was going to be a long night. He didn’t know what annoyed him more; Alfie being a know-it-all or Alfie staying silent to let Thomas draw his own conclusions. 

Alfie ran a hand through his wet hair and one down his abdomen. Thomas couldn’t help but watch. This _silly_ man, who never seemed to mean a word of what he said. Never opened up but sang melancholic songs in the shower. He acted like he was being funny, but had analyzed Thomas perfectly in a matter of minutes on the basis of some philosophical essay. He looked perfectly comfortable, naked, in the middle of someone else’s hotel suite. He was in his own world, examining himself. Thomas looked at the beaded bracelets he wore on his right wrist. He let his eyes trail down and saw Alfie grab hold of his cock and dragging his hand up lazily.

‘See this? That’s you sticking that gun in my face,’ he mumbled. Thomas preferred this low tone over his silly act. Alfie hummed, seemingly in appreciation of himself. He let go of his erection. ‘ _C‘mere_.’

Thomas sighed and got up. Alfie seemed a little disappointed in his lack of enthusiasm. It made Thomas feel like a schoolboy. He walked into Alfie’s space, closer than what would be socially acceptable. Not that it would be socially acceptable for one of them to be stark naked anyway. Alfie clicked his tongue against his teeth. He took Thomas’ cigarette out of his mouth and frowned theatrically. He stubbed it out in the thick crystal ashtray on the desk. At least he was allowed to keep his drink for now. Alfie turned his attention back to Thomas. He lifted his glasses off his face and tossed them on the desk.

‘I need those to _read_ ,’ Thomas complained.

‘You can _hire_ someone to read your shit out loud,’ Alfie shut him up. Pleased with Thomas’ now bare face, he guided him into his own body. The hand on his back felt like it would burn a hole through Thomas’ shirt. ‘Wipe that smug pout off your face, boy.’

A smile crept up Thomas’ face instead. He looked down at Alfie’s lips, which returned his smile. Thomas closed the distance between them, Alfie’s grip tightening. This kiss was surprisingly gentle. Thomas sharply inhaled through his nose when he realized Alfie wasn’t letting go anytime soon; he would need his breath. Alfie’s hand traced from the back of his head down his jaw and cupped his left cheek. Thomas managed to wedge a hand between them. He rested it flat on Alfie’s chest. It occurred to Thomas that this must also be instinctive. Wanting to be held, and touched. Not because there was money on the table or because his last name was on the door. This man had come through the pouring rain. To fulfill his own needs, sure. But _by God_ , Thomas needed it too. 

 

Alfie drew his lips back and leaned his forehead against Thomas’.

‘Hmm,’ came a hum. That about summed it up. ‘Now put your bloody drink down.’

Thomas blindly shoved his glass onto the edge of the desk. It didn’t immediately come crashing down, so that would do.

With no glass left to break, he wrapped both arms around Alfie’s neck. Alfie locked lips with him again. Both hands were on his chest now, undoing button after button, waistcoat and shirt at the same time. Alfie worked it off his shoulders. Alfie ran a thumb over the raised skin of Thomas’ fading chest tattoo.

The kiss turned more hungry. Teeth clicking, grazing skin. Alfie’s fingers dipped below the waistband of Thomas’ trousers. Thomas pulled back in a gasp.

‘Nnh- _Ah_ ,’ he sighed.

They weren’t as hurried as last time. Thomas went in fully prepared and barely drunk. After years of drinking, he had gotten used to feeling like his mind was in his mouth and all his weight rested on his shins. Alfie took his time with every piece of newly discovered skin.

Suddenly, Alfie’s lips were gone. Thomas opened his eyes to find the man in front of him on his knees, untying his shoes. Thomas placed a hand on his crown to steady himself. Thomas lifted his foot off the ground to allow Alfie to slip the shoe and sock from his right foot. Alfie held his calf to keep him balanced. The left foot followed. To his disappointment, Alfie didn’t come back up. Instead, he unbuttoned Thomas’ trousers and worked them off too. Another disappointment followed, this time because he didn't stay down. He spun Thomas around and bent him over the desk, firmly pushing his thighs up against the side. Thomas' ears rang at what followed. A tongue trailed down from halfway down his back and between his cheeks. It didn't stop there. 

Thomas felt drunk now. His head was spinning. He stared down at his hands on the leather writing pad. It reminded him of those times he’d looked into a mirror at the Garrison and suddenly realized how drunk he was. Only this time, he’d barely had anything to drink. How had he ended up here? A moan found its way from his midriff up his lungs and out of his mouth. 

‘Oh- _oh_ ,’ he uttered. He dropped his head between his shoulders.

Alfie was relentless. Whereas Thomas was a little inexperienced in this area, he clearly wasn’t. Thomas felt jealous of the men that had preceded him for a split second, before he realized that it was _his_ ass Alfie was licking right now.

‘Oh, God-‘ Thomas sighed. His face was burning. His moaning only spurred Alfie on. His hands tightly held him in place, the front of his thighs pressed against the desk. His tongue lapping and probing with no regard for Thomas’ sanity. Every now and then he let out an appreciative moan, as if he were enjoying the best dessert he’d ever tasted.

Just when Thomas worried his mind would never be able to pull itself together out of the mush it was now, Alfie decided he’d had enough. He got up and swiftly replaced his tongue with a finger, then two. He knew exactly where and how to curl them inside Thomas now. Thomas felt embarrassed when Alfie had him moaning again, this time literally with a flick of his wrist. Alfie let out an inquisitive hum, as if he needed to ask if Thomas was enjoying this.

‘F-ck’ was all Thomas managed. His vowels didn’t make it out. Alfie took his fingers out and brought his hand down on Thomas’ buttock with a smack.

‘I want you on your knees,’ he let Thomas know. He didn’t need to be told twice. Thomas pushed himself off of the desk and needed a few seconds to steady himself. Too slow. Alfie guided him onto his knees by his waist. He positioned him exactly how he wanted, and Thomas let him. When he was pleased, he placed a heavy hand on Thomas’ back, causing it to arch.

‘Good boy,’ Alfie praised. He spat on him, and guided the tip of his cock inside. Thomas’ knees buckled and the muscles in his legs tightened. He dropped his head forward again. He let the air out of his lungs in short puffs, and screwed up his face as Alfie slid inside him further. ‘Good boy,’ he repeated. ‘Hmm.’ 

The blunt burning sensation spread as Alfie filled him. His arms were supporting most of his weight, and the muscles in his abdomen pulled tight every time he exhaled. When his backside was flush with Alfie’s hips, Alfie straightened him out again; back arched, ass up. His hand came down with a smack again. Thomas was beyond caring. Alfie pulled back and slammed his hips into Thomas again with a grunt. Thomas let out a howl. Alfie’s fingers dug into the fold between Thomas’ hips and thighs. The next thrusts came hard and fast, each of them knocking the air out of his lungs. 

‘Jesus fucking _Christ_ ,’ he huffed, lifting his head again. Alfie pushed his head down, into the carpet. Thomas welcomed the relief on his arms; he wasn’t sure if they’d been able to support him much longer. He sank to the floor. Alfie was everywhere. His fingers knotted in his hair, his thighs flush with his own, stomach and chest pressed up against his back, his cock inside, filling him. It was the breath on his face that made him shiver though. 

‘Yeah?’ 

Thomas nodded, as far as that was possible. 

‘Yeah,’ Alfie agreed.

This was the kind of touch he’d been starved for. Alfie fucked him steadily now, barely pulling out. He ground his hips down. Thomas was sprawled out under him. It was like all the pent-up anger was being squeezed out of him. His mind emptied itself. He couldn’t remember the last time he hadn’t woken up feeling like someone was standing on his chest with a heavy boot. Now that he actually had someone on top of him, the feeling faded. His chest felt light. He was warm, unsure if the sweat between his back and Alfie’s chest was his. It didn’t matter. He felt his jaw unclench, the frown in his forehead smooth out. It was as if the floor gave way under him. He felt the deep pile of the carpet between his fingers and against his face.

Alfie reached an arm under his chest and clasped a whole hand over his mouth. Thomas hadn’t even realized he was making any noise. He must have been, because Alfie shushed him on top of the gesture. 

‘ _Shh_ , Tommy,’ he warned. He sounded amused. His lips grazed Thomas’ ear and settled for the side of his neck. He bit and kissed. Thomas sobbed against his hand. He needed more. Thomas didn’t know what he wanted, his whole body just screamed out at him- _more_. 

Alfie needed his hand back to steady himself. 

‘Please,’ Thomas managed when he was free to speak again. ‘I need-‘ He didn’t know what he needed. Alfie made the decision for him. 

 

The weight was taken off his back. Alfie turned him over, pulled him up and lifted him onto the desk. Thomas instinctively raised his legs to pull Alfie in. Alfie wrapped his arms around his thighs and hiked him towards the edge of the desk. The tip of his cock nudged Thomas’ entrance. Alfie watched as he buried himself inside again. 

‘ _Ohh_ ,’ Thomas sighed. He now vaguely remembered moaning his head off just before. His head was still thudding. 

‘That’s so fucking tight, Tommy,’ Alfie grunted. ‘Touch yourself.’ 

Thomas reached down and touched his erection. It twitched against his hand. This was what he’d been missing. He stroked himself quickly, but lost focus when Alfie lifted his legs higher and slammed into him. The angle was vicious. Thomas felt tears spring to his eyes every time Alfie hit his prostate hard, only to fill him further after that. Thomas clenched his jaw to keep his teeth from knocking together. 

‘ _No, no, no, no, no_ ,’ Alfie muttered urgently. He needed Thomas to get hit himself off. Thomas could tell from his frown that he was close. He grabbed his cock and stroked himself again. Thomas was falling apart embarrassingly quickly, but he wasn’t alone.

‘Fuck yes,’ he encouraged Alfie. ‘Fuck yes, Alfie, just like that.’ 

Alfie uttered a groan as his hips rocked back and forth rhythmically. Thomas’ hand no longer had a rhythm. His mouth hung open as he stared up. His eyes wouldn’t focus anymore, or only on fragments. A droplet of sweat making its way down Alfie’s temple. His wet hair stuck to his forehead. His mouth open, one incisor slightly unaligned. The strange gaps in his beard. Sweat beading together in the hollow behind his clavicle. 

Thomas reached out a hand. He lifted his hips into every thrust, rocking back into Alfie’s cock. Everything around him came crumbling down. His head and shoulders lifted off the desk as he smoothed a hand down Alfie’s chest, trying to grab on. Alfie’s tight grip on his thighs didn’t falter. 

‘Fuck- fuck. _Ffuck_ -‘ Thomas chanted to himself. The feeling surged from behind his ears onto his face, into his throat and down his chest. His stomach tightened. Alfie’s eyes were big and round as he watched Thomas unravel under him. Thomas arched up, coming in spurts over his own hand and stomach with every thrust. With every exhale came a shout, until Thomas had no air left in his lungs. The sound Alfie made was close to purring. He dropped his chin to his chest and grabbed Thomas where he could. A hand absentmindedly ran from his shoulder and settled on his chest, his thumb pressing down on Thomas’ throat. Alfie’s eyes were closed as gave Thomas a last handful of thrusts before coming inside of him with a shudder. 

‘Hm, _hmm_ ,’ he concluded. ‘Ah.’ He screwed up his face as if he was in pain, but Thomas knew better. 

Thomas pressed the heels of his hands into his eye sockets and willed his heart rate to drop and his breathing to calm down. His body was sore. It felt like his legs would unscrew from his torso if Alfie let go of them too quickly. He ran his hands over his forehead and through his hair, and then dropped them over his head on the desk. 

 

‘You’ve chafed your chin on the carpet, mate,’ Alfie noticed. He ran a finger over his own jaw and chin to indicate where Thomas was hurt. He sounded like he had no idea how this injury might have come to be. As if he hadn’t just fucked Thomas into the carpet.

Thomas chuckled. No one would notice an extra bruise or scrape. Alfie convulsed and steadied himself on the desk. The fingers that still held on to Thomas’ leg dug into the skin there, his cock still inside of him. 

‘ _Ffuck!_ Will you fucking stop that, please?’ 

Thomas could only laugh more at his reaction. He wondered if Alfie realized how quickly he slipped in and out personalities. The continued laughing caused Alfie to topple onto him with a strangled moan. He rested his forehead on Thomas’ chest, shaking his head. With a groan, he pulled his hips back and pulled out. The sensation made Thomas shiver. He wrapped his legs around Alfie’s waist. The position became more uncomfortable with the minute. 

Thomas absentmindedly ran his fingers through Alfie’s hair. He stirred, and lifted himself off Thomas’ chest. He lowered his legs and slowly guided them down the side of the desk. 

‘You alright?’

Thomas sighed and nodded. Alfie reached out a hand to tug him off the desk. His head was spinning a little. 

‘We can get right back in the shower,’ Alfie decided. Thomas was not up for showering, but it wasn’t up for discussion. He dawdled along to the bathroom. 

 

Thomas saw himself in the mirror, but didn’t connect the image to himself. Alfie turned the water on and stepped into the bathtub again. He didn’t bother with the curtain this time. Thomas followed reluctantly. Alfie soaped up his hands and washed under his arms. He lathered up his chest and abdomen and carefully ran a hand down his cock. He washed quickly and rinsed. He stepped around Thomas to make room under the running water for him. Thomas stepped into the stream and closed his eyes, involuntarily letting out a sigh. He was tired. His body was tired. He couldn’t see beyond getting into bed. What came after that was secondary. Alfie ran a hand down his stomach. He cleaned Thomas off with water before he lathered up his hands again. He washed Thomas carefully. Alfie turned the tap again and stepped out.

‘Hey, you alright, mate?’ 

‘Hm.’ Thomas raised his eyebrows and willed his eyelids to lift. 

‘Here you go, out you come,’ Alfie sang. He took Thomas’ hand and guided him out of the tub. ‘Don’t want you passing out and hitting your pretty head on the tub. Your brothers would blame me,’ Alfie muttered. He took a towel from the counter and draped it around Thomas’ shoulders.

‘Hm, you _are_ to blame,’ Thomas managed. He ran the towel over his face and head. He yawned. He neglected drying himself off any further. Alfie took the time to dry off completely. Thomas examined his chin in the mirror. Little red and purplish pressure spots formed a splotch from his chin up along his jawbone on the left side of his face. He cocked his head to the side when his eyes fell on a similar bruise. This one was on the side of his neck, and consisted of three or four smaller spots. They added up to a large, deep purple love bite. ‘ _Jesus_ ,’ Thomas groaned. Alfie was busy drying his beard.

‘Yeah, I am to blame for that one. Apologies,’ he offered. 

 

Thomas couldn’t remember how he made it into the large bed. His face was half pressed into the pillow, making it hard to breathe through his nose. He couldn’t move anymore though. His body was so heavy, he felt like it sank into the mattress. His mouth opened instead. He noticed his own breathing was slowing down as if he was already asleep. He was perfectly comfortable. His body warm on the inside and cool on the outside. He didn’t need sheets. His head was calm. He didn’t need to go anywhere or be anyone. 

 Alfie was telling him something. He lay flat on his back and stared up at the ceiling. He talked with his whole body. His beard followed his chin, going up and down. His shoulders also followed every now and then. His hands drew the most intricate patterns in the air. Thomas couldn’t focus on either body part. He blinked slowly as he felt himself drifting off. His eyes were already closed when he caught a fraction of a sentence. Was Alfie talking about a _goat_? Maybe Thomas was already dreaming.

 


End file.
